


Nothing Better to Do

by CalvinPitt



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Bumi's neutral jing-ing it up, Conversations, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mai represses a lot of emotion, Mai would like to throw knives at several people, Mai's just bored, Ozai's a worse ruler than he is a parent, author may be projecting, especially anger, is bumi nuts or just messing around?, little from column a little from column b, mai's parents are also terrible, set prior to s2e03: Return to Omashu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalvinPitt/pseuds/CalvinPitt
Summary: Mai hated living in Omashu. It was so dull, talking to the possibly senile earthbending king sounded like a not-terrible way to pass the time.
Relationships: Mai & Bumi (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Nothing Better to Do

**Author's Note:**

> My first try and writing an Avatar fic, and it's this. I don't know, I just had this itch to write something for Mai that wasn't her and Zuko, or her and Azula + Ty Lee (I love a lot of those fics, but I don't have an angle on them.) And then i remembered Mai could have interacted with Bumi, and voila.

Mai couldn’t stand this place.

Not that this was an unusual occurrence. Mai rarely held warm feelings for any place she happened to be, especially not when she was there because of her parents. Not the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, not the Royal Palace. Not her family’s home, where she was expected to be still and remain quiet, like a vase or flower arrangement, while her parents jabbered about pointless things with their other friends in the nobility.

Even so, Mai truly hated this Earth Kingdom city.

There was nothing for her to do. Earth Kingdom literature wasn’t to her taste; she appreciated the straightforward style, but it wasn’t as bleak as she preferred. She tried running the rooftops, just to get out of the suffocating presence of their new home. That wasn’t bad, although there was nothing worthwhile to practice throwing at as she ran. Then one the soldiers reported her to her parents. Which led to a long lecture from her mother about _‘improper behavior for young women,’_ and _‘really, Mai, how are you going to present yourself as a proper wife candidate acting like this?’_

Not for the first time, Mai wondered if her mother would get the hint if Mai threw a knife at her. Probably not. Her parents were unable to comprehend any notion of Mai having a thought or desire they didn’t put in her head themselves. What they thought she should think, they assumed she did.

Such as the idea she would be happy her father had been named governor of Omashu. Like how he thought the Fire Lord would be impressed by this eyesore of a statue. Mai couldn’t decide whether building it on this dingy pile of stones would be considered an honor, or an insult. She wondered the same about her father being assigned here. If perhaps her parents’ constant butt kissing and attempted social climbing hadn’t annoyed Ozai enough to send them far away.

(That was usually how the Fire Lord handled people he didn’t want around. Assuming he didn’t just kill them.)

The one good thing about the statue was it was only place Mai could find any peace. The highest point in the city was definitely windy, so her loose robes flapped and hair fluttered constantly. But at least no one bothered her up here. Once Mai demonstrated she wasn’t going to lose her balance, the workers left her be. 

(Azula wasn’t the only one who learned from Ty Lee.)

“Excuse me.”

Mai sighed. _Almost_ everyone left her alone up here. The exception being the ancient earthbending king locked in a metal coffin, as far from his element as they could manage. Which meant the coffin dangled from a metal chain beneath where Mai sat.

“EXCUSE ME!”

Mai pointedly ignored him, trying to focus on something else. The city? Wow, an unvaried collection of bland stone blocks. So engrossing. The smokestacks and all the dull metal didn't help, either, their grimy, sooty texture mirroring her mood. The sun, as it descended behind the mountains? The winds must be blowing in from one of the deserts further inland, because the sun was particularly orange. Mai hated orange.

“Are you here to do my hair?”

The odd question made Mai actually look at King Bumi. The man craned his neck as much as he could to peer up at her, one eye squinted shut, the other abnormally open. He sounded innocent and polite, but Mai heard the playful tone beneath it.

(Learning to read beneath the surface was essential when you spent a lot of time around the Royal Family. Sensing when to agree, when to be silent, when to be somewhere else. Almost as essential as burying yourself so deeply even someone looking beneath the surface wouldn’t see the truth.)

“Sure.” A single circular blade appeared in her hand. She flicked it at him with a sharp, practiced movement of her wrist. It trimmed the hair sticking out from the left side of his head and arced back to her, embedding in the wood next to her knee. She hadn’t adjusted sufficiently for the winds.

The earthbender didn’t flinch. Instead, he asked politely, “Aren’t you going to let me see how it looks before you do the other side?”

Mai let one eyebrow raise a fraction of an inch. She felt the corner of her mouth do the same. She spoke with false deference and respect. “Of course, _your highness._ ”

She slid nimbly down the chain, landing in a crouch on top of his prison. She pointedly ignored the ground far below her perch. Two more knives joined the one in her hand, holding them in front of the old man, angled so he could see the side of his head.

He inspected her work closely, jutting his chin out thoughtfully as he turned his head to and fro, “hmmmming”. Finally, he nodded.

“Very good work. Don’t trim it any shorter. I wouldn’t want to look foolish, after all. Must maintain my regal bearing!”

Mai considered whether he was mocking the Fire Nation, her parents, with all their pomp and circumstance, the importance placed on appearances. Making everything look flawless from the outside. It deserved some mocking.

Or maybe he was just nuts. “No, you certainly wouldn’t want that.” She lifted one of her blades. “The other side now?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” he answered with childlike eagerness.

* * *

“Are you enjoying your accommodations?”

Rather than climb back up to the scaffolding, Mai stayed on top of Bumi’s cage. It’s not as though the view was any worse (it wasn’t any better, either), and the old man wasn’t going to stop talking at her. This way he wouldn’t shout.

Mai could just go back down, but that would mean dealing with her parents. She’d hoped her baby brother would at least distract them, but they still found time to criticize everything about her. Even when she was doing nothing, she wasn’t doing it properly.

(She wondered if Tom-Tom would fare better when he grew up. She might hate him if he did, though. Why should he get to escape their parents’ suffocating grasp?)

The old guy was still waiting on an answer, she realized. “Yeah, just love sleeping on big stone slabs.”

“Oh dear, they didn’t put you in the Bad Chamber, did they?” He sounded like a concerned grandparent, not that Mai really knew what one of those sounded like. Something about the mixture of genuine compassion, laid on just thick enough to feel a little patronizing.

“How can you tell the difference?”

“Well, the Bad Chamber – which we converted into the Newly Refurbished Chamber, which used to be Bad – was more of a prison cell. We hadn’t finished putting up new curtains yet when you all came to visit.”

“That’s certainly not the room I’m in,” she responded drily. “Mine has plenty of curtains. Enough to hang myself with a different one every day of the year.”

“Wonderful! They gave you the Curtain Chamber! That’s my favorite!” 

Mai thought she heard muffled clapping from inside his coffin. Was he supposed to be able to move his arms? Eh, not her problem. “How are you enjoying _your_ accommodations?”

The king laughed, a mixture of braying and snorting, like a congested aardvark-donkey. It suited him. “It’s delightfully cozy. My posture hasn’t been this good in years!”

* * *

Mai tossed her knives at the scaffolding above, trying to arc them around one beam to hit one further in. Then she started in with ricochets and bank shots. It took a few tries with the strong and swirling winds, but they were consistently hitting whichever beam she targeted now.

“That’s quite impressive.”

“What is?” She replied without turning to him.

“That you’ve already adjusted to the winds, and the sway of my new home. You must practice a lot.”

Mai shrugged. “Throwing weapons aren’t much use if you can’t account for wind.”

(And if you weren’t useful, you could be discarded easily.)

He hummed. “It’s not a problem I encounter much. Most winds can’t redirect a rock. Not unless it’s an airbender controlling them.”

“Have a lot of experience with that, do you?” He looked old enough to have met airbenders before Fire Lord Sozin killed them all. 

(All except the one he was after, apparently. A mistake his grandson Ozai hadn’t managed to correct yet, from what she heard. Second hand, of course. Her parents would never discuss a Fire Nation failure openly. Fire Lords were supposedly infallible, being representative of Agni’s supreme will and all. Of course, take that to its logical extreme, Agni _intended_ for most of the Fire Navy to be wiped out by a 12-year old during an idiotic invasion of the North Pole, and that’s why the Fire Lord approved it.

Maybe Agni did want that. The tales she read as a child suggested spirits could be wanton and capricious. Could torment people for reasons known only to them.

Even so, Mai was pretty sure Ozai wouldn’t be accepting responsibility for agreeing to that fiasco. Perks of having all the power. Take the credit, shift the blame.)

Those were treasonous thoughts, but Mai didn’t care. None of it showed on her face – her true thoughts never did – and even if the old man knew somehow, who would he tell?

“A bit,” he acknowledged. “They like to evade and elude, avoid direct conflict. The opposite of earth, after all.”

“Doesn’t seem to have worked out for them.”

“No, I suppose not,” he said glumly. “If the person challenging you is determined enough, sooner or later, you have to stand your ground.”

* * *

“How is Flopsy doing?”

Mai sighed. Dealing with her parents’ scolding might be preferable to the old man’s bizarre comments. “Who is Flopsy?”

“My pet, of course! He’s such a sweetie-pie! I hope your father is taking care of him.”

Mai scoffed. “My father couldn’t care for a sponge-snail.” Not unless it belonged to someone important, in which case he’d be smart enough to hire someone to do it.

“He raised you. And there’s a baby, too, correct?”

“You’re proving my point.”

“Oh. Well, is he at least feeding Flopsy kumquat-carrots regularly?”

“Probably not.”

Mai had no idea what they were feeding the saber-toothed gorilla-goatrabbit. She just knew it was chained up in an open pit in the courtyard. The one time she walked past, it stared up at her with huge, sad eyes. Seeing it trapped and miserable stirred something in Mai she preferred not to examine, so she avoided it after that.

Animals didn’t know enough not to show how sad they were.

“That won’t do at all!” Bumi exclaimed. “Flopsy needs his kumquat-carrots, like he needs his belly rubbed. They make his coat glossy and smooth. They make him more energetic, too.”

He looked up at Mai, doing a frighteningly good impression of the sad eyes his pet gave her. Mai wondered which of them learned it from the other.

(Ty Lee had used a similar look when she wanted Mai to do something that involved other people. It worked more often than Mai would ever admit.)

“Would you bring him some?”

“Sure.” It wasn’t as though Mai had a packed schedule. Better than following her mother around all day.

At the old man’s gleeful expression, she added, “Of course, if they make Flopsy go crazy and run loose in the palace, my father will just have him killed. Probably cooked and eaten, actually.” 

She added this casually, like it was hardly worth mentioning, and Bumi’s expression dropped like it fell off a cliff. Or from a very tall scaffold. He sweated nervously as Mai’s face remained a blank page.

“Perhaps you should offer him cabbages instead. After so long without kumquat-carrots, we wouldn’t want him to get wound up.”

* * *

“Why did you just give up?”

The wind died down as the sun fell behind the mountains, the sky above already a deep purple. The moon hadn’t yet risen to take its place in the sky.

“Mmm?” The old man responded absently. His gaze seemed fixed on the horizon. Mai couldn’t see anything out there.

“When we attacked, you ordered your people to surrender. Why?”

“It would be terribly rude to greet guests with giant rocks,” he said, as though it was obvious. “Except during the Festival of Boulders, of course. Then it would be rude _not_ to greet you with giant rocks!”

Mai didn’t respond. She knew when someone was acting, even if Bumi’s approach – to play the fool – was the precise opposite of hers. She could wait. She had plenty of experience sitting silently, waiting until she was allowed to speak, or move, or exist as a person. Which didn’t mean Bumi would give her a straight answer, but Mai was used to that, too.

(Her parents always meant something different from what they said to her, but it was easy to discern the truth, because it was always the same thing: _This will help us, and that’s what you’re here for._

Azula had been much the same their entire childhood. Everything she said was in some way trying to control Mai, trick Mai into exposing some vulnerability the princess could exploit. Mai made that mistake once or twice, early on, but she learned fast.)

For a time, there was no talk between the two. Mai brooded, bangs shadowing her eyes. She wondered if she could muster the will to just run away, but had no idea where she’d go, or for what purpose. She had no idea what the king was thinking about. Rocks, maybe.

Bumi broke the silence. “Why would I fight? The Fire Nation is unstoppable, after all, isn’t it? Fighting back would just get a lot of my subjects hurt or killed. It would have hurt or killed a lot of your people as well.”

“You care about Fire Nation soldiers?”

The coffin-prison rocked in a way that suggested Bumi was shrugging his shoulders. “Well certainly, they may be invaders, but that’s no reason to be rude!” He paused. “Don’t _you_ care?”

Mai tilted her head slightly, her version of a shrug. “They’re soldiers, they know the risks. They know what they’re serving.”

(That's what they were taught. That it was a great honor to serve the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord. Everyone knew that, and the risks. Except they don’t. Don’t know what they serve, what Ozai is.

Don’t know the risks. Not when they’re used as unwitting bait. Mai heard what a certain prince found so objectionable as to “disrespect” his asshole of a father. 

Her parents attended the Agni Kai. _That_ they discussed openly in front of her at dinner. Spoke of how her friend pleaded. How he screamed as he was burned. Spoke about it like they were discussing the weather. Scolded her when she sobbed once – **once** – at hearing about Zuko’s face being burned. 

The prince had been disgraceful, they said. 

Should never have spoken up when he obviously didn’t understand the necessities of war, her father said, with all the gravity of a man who has never actually fought in his life.

Better for Mai to distance herself from the banished prince and focus on being the best friend to the Princess, her mother stated.

Mai had stifled anything she wanted to say or do, then excused herself as soon as possible.

Spent hours throwing knives at a spot on the wall. Pretended it was Ozai’s eye. Or her father’s. Or her mother’s.)

Mai realized she was gripping a knife so tightly her hand ached. She forced herself to relax, spin the blade between her fingers nonchalantly. Bumi seemed to be waiting for her to say something further. When she remained silent, he “hmmmed” again. 

The coffin-prison began to sway, not in the direction of the winds. Mai thought Bumi was rocking it gently, though she couldn’t understand why.

* * *

When he resumed speaking, wizened voice softer than before, words chosen cautiously. An earthbender treading carefully over uncertain ground.

“I will kill Fire Nation soldiers, but not to no purpose. Fighting wouldn’t have accomplished a thing. You father holds the city, but that’s just buildings. I’m the king of the _people_ of Omashu, not the buildings. A king, a _leader_ , shouldn’t simply throw away lives on a whim. Whether they are his or not.”

It sounded nice, even if it was hopelessly naive. “Your people don’t seem to agree.”

There was a strong rebel presence in the city, whatever her father said to the contrary in his reports to the Fire Lord. Many of Omashu’s soldiers and citizens didn’t give up when their king did. They struck at night, when firebenders were without Agni’s strength, and they were always swallowed by the Earth, where her father’s troops were reluctant to pursue. 

Mai wouldn’t mind chasing them down, hunting them through the tunnels. She wasn’t a bender, whether it was day or night didn’t mean a thing for _her_ fighting. She’d practiced throwing knives in the dark. Same way she practiced around firebenders, so their sudden jets of flame didn’t distract her. It’d be a challenge, to fight earthbenders surrounded by their element.

Of course, her parents forbid it, just as they did the rooftop running. Mai still found a few rebels, during one of the roof-running trips she took after they told her not to. They’d just scold her again. (Whatever their failings, they weren’t physically abusive). Mai could deal with it. 

The earthbenders were trying to break into an armory. Sabotage some of the Fire Nation’s weapons. Mai had only fought firebenders and other non-benders before. Earthbenders were different. Less graceful, easier to target, but difficult to hold. Tricky to pin someone to a wall if they can bend the wall to eject your knives. 

Earthbenders were like firebenders in that they opted for the direct approach. They weren’t in that they didn’t dodge. 

Of course, her knives couldn’t pierce the shields they formed from the floors and walls. After her element of surprise was gone, that had been a problem. For about three seconds. Mai knew about throwing on an arc, or using ricochets (especially at street level, with no wind to speak of to adjust for). These earthbenders apparently had no concept of any style other than straight ahead.

(Mai could be stubborn in her own, subtle, way, but she knew how to redirect or slip around an attack, too.) 

She’d just dropped the last one with a pair of knives in the ankles when the Fire Nation soldiers finally arrived. Rather than a thank you, or congratulations, it was another lecture.

_Not proper._

_Unheard of._

_What we have soldiers for, Mai, really now._

At least the soldiers were impressed. Or scared. Either worked, as long as it kept them out of her hair. 

“I know. I do wish they’d stop,” Bumi lamented, drawing her from her thoughts. “Just last week they damaged Tran’s house!”

“You said at some point you have to stand and fight.”

“Of course,” Bumi nodded eagerly. “But you have to pick your battles. I’m sure you learned that at some point.” He watched her knowingly.

“Or is it always the right time to fight in the Fire Nation?”

“It’s time to fight if it’s the will of Agni, expressed by the Fire Lord.” She recited from memory. “He’s not usually the one fighting, though.”

(Mai spent her whole life picking her battles. She couldn’t challenge her parents’ attempts to mold her directly, but she guarded as much of herself as she could. Expressed it in whatever ways she could find. 

She didn’t have the power. If you tried to resist without power, you were destroyed.

So she kept her emotions hidden, remained silent and proper. She wondered how long she’d be able to keep that up before it was all she was. Would her parents make her what they wanted eventually?)

She tried to shift the conversation back to Bumi. First rule of dealing with royalty: encourage them to talk, especially about themselves. They love that. “How do you know when it’s time?”

“A moment when your opponent is particularly vulnerable is good, although a trapped enemy can be desperate and unpredictable.”

“You don’t look very desperate or unpredictable.”

Bumi stared at her in confusion, before snorting and laughing. “That’s because I’m precisely where I want to be!”

“I can’t imagine anyone would want to be in this city.”

“Oh dear, I better have a word with our Board of Tourism.”

* * *

“It’s nice to see Tui moving freely in the sky once more.”

The moon soared in the sky overhead, casting its light on them. Bumi stared at it peacefully. Mai stared down at the city, trying to spy signs of anything interesting. Sadly, there were no earthbenders roaming around.

Mai remembered the night the sky turned red, then black as the moon vanished. She had no idea what that had been about, other than it had felt incredibly wrong somewhere inside her.

“The moon’s not really free, though,” she pointed out. “It’s stuck in the same pattern, circling the world every night.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Bumi admitted, “but how do you know we aren’t circling it?”

Mai didn’t know, so she kept silent. 

Another lull. Mai didn’t care, but she asked anyway. It ought to be entertaining. “Who’s Tran?”

If the imprisoned king was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “I buy the kumquat-carrots for Flopsy from his mother! He called me “King Bummy” one day!”

“Of course he did.”

“It was an honest mistake,” Bumi continued. “I wasn’t wearing my Official Robes. They were being cleaned, so I wore my Casual Day robes instead. Which are a potato sack. They’re more comfortable than you’d think.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I admit, they don’t offer many places to hide knives.”

Mai snorted. “That’s a definite dealbreaker for me.”

Silence again. Frog-crickets called from somewhere below. Mai watched Bumi from the corner of his eye. He’d gone back to staring at the night sky quietly.

“And if the soldiers attacked Tran and his mother? Were going to burn them? Would you do nothing, because it wasn’t the right time?”

(Mai didn’t know if she would have done anything if she’d been with Azula at Zuko’s Agni Kai. Probably not. She was too smart – _scared_ – to act. She couldn’t believe no one else did anything, although she didn't know why. If the Fire Lord did it, then it must be Agni's will. So it was OK. 

But she thought Zuko’s uncle liked him, at least.)

She realized Bumi was watching her closely again, and that she was clenching a knife again. The grip loosened slowly, and she shifted so her hair shadowed her face. Hid whatever the old man was seeing from the moonlight.

Bumi didn’t comment on that, but turned back to look over his former kingdom.

“Just because I’m an earthbender doesn’t mean I can’t adapt,” he said lightly, before growing somber. “Sometimes you have to act whether it’s the right time or not. Or you lose what’s important.”

“Doesn’t that just get you killed, then?”

“Not necessarily, but if what you’re fighting for is important enough, would you care?”

Mai tried to think of what she’d fight for like Bumi suggests. Nothing, no one, came to mind in the moment. The moon drifted behind a cloud.

Her parents? No. The Fire Nation, Ozai, Azula? No. She'd fight for them out of fear for herself, but that wasn't what Bumi was talking about. Zuko or Ty Lee? Maybe? At one time they would have been friends, or as close as Mai had. But it had been three years since she saw Zuko, and over a year since Ty Lee joined a circus. There’d been no contact, and Mai wondered what any of them had been to each other. Until she saw either of them again, she wouldn’t know.

Maybe Tom-Tom. He was just a baby. He certainly hadn’t done anything to make her hate him yet. Not the same as risking death for him, but it was the best she could manage.

(Mai tried to think of who might fight like that for her. She couldn’t come up with anyone. But if she wasn’t sure she’d fight for anyone, she couldn’t be mad about that, could she? And she wasn’t. It was just a fact of life. Mai was the only one in her own corner.)

Mai didn’t like the answers she had, so she said nothing. At least she couldn’t see the old king staring at her.

That didn’t save her from hearing him. “You still have time. You don’t have to have the answer right this second.”

The deep chill high above the city was suddenly noticeable. Mai rose and began climbing the chain towards the scaffold. She paused halfway up.

“Good night. Try not to go crazy up here. Or crazier.”

Bumi cackled, then called after her as she resumed her climb. “Don’t confuse madness for genius! Can I make an appointment for my next haircut?”

Mai smirked down at him from the scaffolding. “Sure. Knock yourself out. How’s next week?”

Bumi shook his head, tsking. “No, no, I have so many meetings next week. The pigeon-squirrel delegation will be visiting! I’ll talk to my secretary, and have him make arrangements with you.”

Mai stared at him, while the old man beamed back at her. She shook her head and started the long climb down to the ground. With any luck, her parents were already asleep. That way, she’d at least put off the lecture until breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't love the ending, but I didn't have one in mind when I started this. Really just winging everything other than the bit about Bumi asking if she's his hairdresser. I picture Bumi's personality as if Aang and Azula did a fusion. Kind of goofy, but frighteningly perceptive. Don't know if I pulled it off, though.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
